Savior
by Kaede-tama
Summary: The last thing that Gilbert expected to happen during his shift was to get a call from a kid who had just taken a whole bottle of sleeping pills. AU, PruCan
1. Part I

**Savior**

(and how Gilbert became Matthew's)

**. . .**

**Part I  
**

The only reason that Gilbert was currently sitting in a small cubicle, absently spinning around in an office chair, working for Teenline(which apparently was one of those organizations that allowed teenagers to call and talk to people about their problems, and where the person on the other line would pretend to care), was because he'd earned detention for punching some kid in the face and knocking them out or something. And he'd been _oh so lucky_ that his detention happened to be on the same time as the senior dance.

He didn't really care for the dance, but his best friend's boyfriend was performing and Gilbert had promised to come to support him. As much as it didn't seem to fit Gilbert's personality to do so, he always kept his promises. Always, damn it, and he was _not_ going to let detention break his loyalty streak. So he offered to do something else to work off his detention.

That was how he ended up in the current setting, bored after already talking to three people. They had all been girls, all crying when Gilbert answered their calls. They gushed about their recent breakup and how Stephanie had stole their boyfriend and how they weren't allowed to go to some party or something stupid like that. Needless to say, nearing the end of his shift, Gilbert was feeling pretty irate.

Looking around, he wondered to himself how these people could stand sitting there almost all day, if he himself was already almost insane after only two hours. Gilbert sighed and halted his chair-spinning, propping his feet up on the desk in front of him. Just before he could close his eyes and take a quick nap, the phone to his right rang shrilly and he almost fell over.

Gilbert snatched the phone up and snarled into the receiver, "What?" Great. What was it going to be this time? A broken nail? He honestly wouldn't be surprised.

There was a sniffle from the other line. "H-hello?" the voice said meekly. "Is this..."

"Yeah, this is Teenline, where we listen to your problems and pretend to care," Gilbert snapped. "Just get on with it." With luck, the last fifteen minutes of his shift would end in the middle of this call. He wondered if he'd be allowed just to hang up and leave.

"I'm sorry," the person said softly.

"What the fuck are you sorry for, kid?" Gilbert asked. He couldn't tell whether this was a girl or boy, even though the voice was sounding pretty feminine.

"You sound like you're not really enjoying this," the person elaborated. "It's okay, I just wanted to-"

Ah. The guilt trip. Gilbert almost slammed his head on the desk in frustration. Why was he so vulnerable to guilt trips? "No, don't hang up," he interrupted smoothly. "I'm just...tired. But I have fifteen more minutes to kill, so you can go ahead and enrich me in how your life is."

"Okay, then." There was a pause. "My life... Well, everything's been pretty hectic lately."

"Yeah. Those exit exams suck," Gilbert agreed.

The person laughed. Gilbert finally figured that this was a male, which surprised him. Unfairly, he'd thought that only girls did this sort of thing. "Yeah, they do," the boy said, "and they don't help with the fact that I have other things on my mind that are more important."

The boy paused again, and Gilbert wondered if he was supposed to say something. Thankfully, he didn't have to. "But I study for them anyway," the person continued. "My family is one of those ones who are big on school, so I do my best to make them proud."

"My parents died when I was young, so I can't really relate to that, kid," Gilbert said. "I have a brother though, and he bothers me about my grades a lot too. Is that close enough?"

"I suppose so." There was some rustling before the boy asked, "What's your brother like?"

Gilbert was surprised at the question. "Well," he began tentatively, running a hand through his silver hair, "he's younger than me. He won't admit it, but he loves it when I cook wurst for him."

"That must be nice," the boy replied, sounding wistful. "To be able to do that with your brother, I mean."

"You sound like you know a thing or two about brothers," Gilbert said, red eyes flickering to the digital clock on the desk. Eleven more minutes.

"I have a brother," the boy admitted. "A twin, actually. I love him and all, but I hate when people mistake me for him. Sometimes he'll really piss someone off, and I'll get beaten up because that someone will think that I'm him."

Gilbert whistled. "That's tough," he commented. "You should tell him to grow a pair and deal with his own problems."

"He can't help it, he's just naturally annoying," the boy said, and Gilbert frowned when he realized that he was defending his brother. Hadn't he been complaining about him a few seconds ago?

"Yeah, but still, the fact that you're getting beaten up because of him isn't right," Gilbert argued, surprised that he felt like he actually cared.

"He can't help it..." the boy repeated softly. The conversation trailed off into an awkward silence.

"So. Is the rest of your family more decent than your brother?" Gilbert queried, finding that he had six more minutes and feeling that he should draw the call to a close.

If the boy was bothered by his brother being insulted by a stranger, he said nothing about it. "They don't notice me much, but I know that they love me."

For some reason, this made Gilbert fume. This kid - whoever he was - was such a pushover! It infuriated Gilbert that he let himself be pushed around so easily. Didn't he feel that he should stand up for himself? Why _didn't_ he stand up for himself? His brother was an ass, his parents didn't sound any better, and it seemed like the kid was content with things staying like that for the rest of his life.

"Why don't you speak up for yourself?" Gilbert demanded, interrupted the other in the middle of a sentence. "From what you've told me, you let your family treat you like shit. Do you let your friends do that too?"

"I don't really-"

"Don't give me excuses!" Gilbert raged. "Start sticking up for yourself! Don't call this place because you can't deal with it. At least _try_ solving your own problems first!" He added, "You're just like your brother, not facing your problems. Except he's better, because at least he sounds like he'd be able to hold his own."

"Stop." The faint command barely registered in Gilbert's ears and it took him much effort not to keep ranting. "Stop comparing me to my brother and stop acting like you know everything about me."

"But I bet I do," Gilbert muttered. "Let me guess, you get picked on in school? Or you're so overshadowed by your brother that no one notices you?" By then, Gilbert had no idea what was coming out of his mouth, only that he needed to get his point across. "Kid, listen. Everyone goes through that at some point in their life. I'm not being harsh or cruel, but calling here isn't your best choice. I know that sometimes it can feel lonely, but talk to your brother. Your parents. Don't talk to a stranger, talk to _them_, the people that you know. And don't... Don't try to deal with things on your own." Relief flooded through Gilbert when he saw that his shift was finally over. "I have to go. Kid, take my advice, okay?"

As he was about to put the phone back down, he heard the boy frantically call, "Wait!"

With a small sense of impatience, Gilbert brought the phone back to his ear. "P-Please don't hang up. You were right about me, and you're right that I should- and I shouldn't have-" He couldn't get out anymore and Gilbert heard him start to cry.

"Hey, calm down," Gilbert said, feeling his hand tighten on the phone. Why was he getting a bad feeling...?

"My name is Matthew Williams," the boy managed to say through tears. "I live two blocks away from your building. I did something really, really stupid."

"Kid?" By now Gilbert was starting to panic. What had this Matthew done? "What did you do?"

"I wasn't thinking," Matthew said, voice taking on a hysteric tone. "I-I found the sleeping pills in my d-dad's cabinet, and I just grabbed them and-"

Sleeping pills. Oh, shit. Not good, not good. Gilbert stood in his seat, looking around wildly for the person in charge. "Someone call the police!" he shouted. "God damn it you people, _hurry_, this kid could die!" It wouldn't take a genius to figure out what Matthew had done with the sleeping pills. A few people looked up at him, most giving him skeptical looks. "I'm not joking!" Gilbert roared. "Call the police!" He couldn't leave the phone and risk Matthew drifting off while he was gone.

"Please, I'm feeling really sleepy," Matthew sobbed. "I take it back, I don't want to die."

"Don't worry, I'm getting the police, we'll be there soon," Gilbert soothed. "Stay awake for a little while more, okay? Okay, Matthew?"

"Please," Matthew said weakly, "please, please...don't let me die..."

* * *

**A/N:** This is going to be a twoshot, so I'll put up the next part when I get around to writing it. Meanwhile, I hope I did okay with the dialogue, even though Matthew is really OOC here. XD


	2. Part II

**Part II**

The blinding whiteness of the hospital walls and floors made Gilbert wince and bury his head into his hands. He took a deep breath, then crinkled his nose. The smell of antiseptic was overpowering too. Sighing, he leaned back in his seat and looked around wearily, fighting the urge to nod off into a short nap.

It was hard to believe that just two hours prior, he'd been sitting in a cubicle waiting for his shift to be over. It was hard to believe that he might have just saved an absolute stranger's life. It was even harder to believe that he was still there.

_Of course I'd still be here, _he thought, running a hand through his silver hair. _I'm not as big of a jackass to ignore this kind of thing..._

Just then, the double doors at the other side of the waiting room was pushed open and Gilbert straightened in his seat, hoping that it was a doctor who'd come to tell him that Matthew was okay. But it wasn't. Instead, it was a blond teenager, wearing a white t-shirt and a bomber jacket and jeans, and he rushed to the receptionist's booth. Gilbert slumped back in his seat but watched in mild interest as the blond talked in hushed, hurried tones with the receptionist. Eventually the blond stumbled away from the desk and shuffled over to the chair next to Gilbert and plopped down.

"My brother could be dying," he said softly.

Gilbert glanced around, wondering if the sentence was directed at him. Once he realized that the other was indeed talking to him, he replied flatly, "Huh."

The blond nodded morosely. "I treated him like shit this past week, and then I find out that he apparently overdosed on sleeping pills..." He sniffled. "That little bastard. Didn't he know that I was here if he needed me...?"

Gilbert blinked. He gave the other a once-over, before blinking again, disturbed. "What's your name?" he asked.

"Alfred," was the answer.

Again, Gilbert looked at the blond. "Alfred, as in, Alfred F. Jones?"

Alfred nodded.

_I know him_, Gilbert thought in surprise. Alfred F. Jones, captain of the football team, annoying, always proclaiming he was 'the hero.' As for his brother... _Hey, I know his brother, too._ Matthew Williams; the only reason he remembered his name was because the fact that the brothers had different last names had always intrigued Gilbert.

Matthew Williams.

Why did it sound so...

Oh. _Oh._

_"My name is Matthew Williams. I live two blocks away from your building. I did something really, really stupid..."_

It didn't help that Gilbert recalled that Matthew had been the poor kid he'd punched at school, which earned was what had earned him detention in the first place. The memory made Gilbert feel guilty.

"Mr. Williams? And Mr. Beilschmidt?" Gilbert hadn't noticed the doctor that had stepped into the waiting room. "Patient 207 is ready to see you..."

Alfred bolted upwards from his seat and wasted no time in hurrying after the doctor through the double doors. Gilbert stood and followed as well. He managed to hear parts of what the doctor was saying about Matthew. "...managed to get most of the drugs out of his body, although he's very worn out right now. I ask that you don't strain him too much." Then the doctor glanced at Gilbert, as if he already suspected that the albino would do something. Gilbert glared at him in return.

They reached a door in the middle of the hallway with the numbers _207_ in gold written above a peephole. The doctor opened the door for them.

"Mattie!" Alfred cried the moment he was inside, rushing to the bed as soon as the doctor stepped aside. Gilbert walked into the room and heard the door close behind him.

"Mattie, stupid, what'd you go and do this for?" Alfred demanded, though his voice was soft. He glared half-heartedly at his brother, tucked in blue and white blankets.

Gilbert saw Matthew's eyes flutter open. Then Matthew cracked a small grin. "Alfred...Williams?" he croaked.

Alfred let out a choked laugh and Gilbert realized he was crying. "You're my brother, right?" Alfred squeezed Matthew's hand. Matthew, still smiling, moved his gaze from his brother to the silverette standing awkwardly at the edge of the bed.

"Gilbert...?" Matthew asked, violet eyes swimming in daze and confusion, wondering what his classmate was doing here.

"Yeah," Gilbert said. "I was - um, the one who... The one you were talking to earlier on the phone..." God, where did his eloquence go? Gilbert inwardly cursed.

"Oh." Matthew's cheeks colored in a blush and he averted his gaze. "Th-thank you, Gilbert," he said quietly, offering the albino a timid smile.

Gilbert just stared at him for a moment. Then he cleared his throat. "No problem, kid."

**. . .**

"What!" Alfred slammed his fist down a little too over-dramatically. "I'm his brother, _I_ should be the one helping him around!"

Principal Zwingli glared daggers at him, and the American slowly sat back down. "Alfred, it is clear right now that Matthew trusts Gilbert the most," he said calmly. "And I mean that with the lease offense possible."

Gilbert glanced back through the glass windows of the principal's office, at the slumped form of Matthew sitting on a chair. It had been four days since the incident with the sleeping pills, and even though Matthew was recovering slowly, he had to return to school sometime. But due to the fact that Matthew had been getting dizzy and nearly passed out too many times to count in the previous days, his parents had requested someone to accompany the blond around school to make sure he was okay.

Unfortunately or not, Gilbert had been the obvious choice. The Prussian had every class with Matthew save for two, and Matthew seemed to trust him decently. That is, trusted him better than his own brother.

"It's decided, then," Principal Zwingli leaned back in his chair. "Gilbert will be in charge of making sure Matthew does fine until the boy recovers." He gave Alfred a pointed look. "Any objections?"

Alfred kept his mouth shut, but glared at Gilbert before stomping out of the office.

**. . .**

"A few days ago, I punched you," Gilbert said hesitantly, sliding into the seat next to Matthew. "I never really said sorry, so...sorry."

In the loudness of the cafeteria, he almost didn't hear Matthew's reply. "It's okay," the violet-eyed boy said. "It happens a lot." He picked up his milk cartoon and took a sip, saying nothing more. "And you made it for up by, you know," Matthew gestured at himself, "saving me. We're pretty even now."

Gilbert chuckled. "I guess we are," he said. He spotted Alfred finishing paying for his lunch and laughing with his friends. "Don't do it again."

Matthew nodded, blond hair falling into his face. "I promise."

The awkward atmosphere around the pair dissolved when Gilbert's friends, Francis, Arthur, Antonio, and Lovino(who was only sitting there because of Antonio) filled in the seats around them. Gilbert wondered if he should be concerned for Matthew's safety. (What? He'd become a little protective since-)

"Who is this, _mon cher_?" Francis, who'd managed to sit next to Matthew, purred. Gilbert saw the Frenchman lean closer into Matthew and felt Matthew press against his arm as he tried to inch away.

"No one you should be rubbing on," Gilbert snapped, even though normally he laughed at whoever was the poor victim of Francis's affections.

(-Okay, so maybe he'd become _very _protective of Matthew, but whatever.)

"Get your hands off him," Arthur chastised with a glare, reaching over to smack Francis on the head. Then he turned to Matthew with a small smile. "Hello there, I'm Arthur. It's a pleasure to meet you." That kind of surprised Gilbert, because Arthur normally hated everyone at first.

"I'm Matthew," Matthew said, smiling back at Arthur. "It's nice to meet you too."

"He's almost as cute as Lovi," Antonio sighed adoringly, before Lovino hit him with a, "Shut up, you bastard!"

Even if everyone suddenly started talking at once, Francis was still trying to get as close as possible, and Gilbert looked absolutely mortified, Matthew felt loved.

"Sorry. They're always like that," Gilbert muttered when he and Matthew had gotten up to dump their trays.

"I like them. They're nice," Matthew said, cheeks flushed from smiling so much in the past ten minutes.

"Not that I've ever cared how they act towards my friends, but I couldn't have you getting dizzy and passing out, right?" He nudged Matthew's shoulders.

Matthew swayed to the left, before stumbling back to the right and almost tripping over Gilbert. The albino steadied him by the shoulders. "You okay, kid?" he asked, looking over the smaller blond for any sign of hurt.

"I'm fine," Matthew assured him. "You just bumped me a little too hard, eh?"

Back at the table, four pairs of eyes watched as Matthew laughed when Gilbert continued to fuss over him uncharacteristically. "I pity the lad," Arthur sighed, "but I suppose Matthew could be good for Gilbert."

"They look like two awkward teenagers trying to flirt," Francis said disdainfully.

Lovino wanted to say, "They _are _two awkward teenagers trying to flirt, _idiota_," but he was too busy warding off a hug from Antonio, so instead let out an long, loud insufferable sigh.

**. . .**

Matthew's eyes were wide and maybe a little panicked. Gilbert couldn't tell. "Y-You don't have to be my partner," the boy stammered. "Not that I don't want you to be, but I know that being responsible for me isn't really something you're enjoying, so I want to let you know that you don't have to go as far as-"

"Shut up," Gilbert interrupted. "I _want_ to be your partner, stupid."

"I mean, I can always be Alfred's partner..." Matthew looked off to the side where Alfred, already paired with another boy, was starting the experiment.

"It's not a big deal, kid," Gilbert said. "Go get a lab coat and some goggles and let's get this experiment over with."

Matthew nodded and returned a few minutes later donning a lab coat and goggles. The lab coat looked two sizes too big and hung off Matthew's frame loosely. Gilbert found it to be kind of endearing. Matthew looked at Gilbert with curious eyes. "Ready to start?"

And then, for reasons that Gilbert himself did not know, the Prussian grabbed Matthew and yanked him close, causing the blond the squeak in surprise. "Um...Gil?"

Gilbert glanced down warily. "What?"

Matthew's gaze shifted uncomfortably before he said, "Can you let go of me?"

"Oh." _Not awesome_, Gilbert berated himself as he watched the Canadian awkwardly fix his clothes. _Not awesome, not awesome._ "That kid was going to run into you," he said on a whim, pointing to a random boy. "Do I get a thank you?" he allowed himself to grin.

Matthew peered at him wonderingly before he shrugged. "Thanks, I guess..." He didn't bother correcting Gilbert that they were in a corner, and that no one would have been able to run into him if they tried. He smiled anyway, hiding it by turning to their lab station. "Let's start?"

**. . .**

"See? They _are_ two awkward teenagers trying to flirt," Lovino growled from the lab station beside the pair. Then, "Get off me, tomato bastard!"

**. . .**

"You listen to Nickelback?" Gilbert asked in surprise, flashing the blond a surprised stare to where he sat on the passenger's side of the car.

Matthew shrugged, looking embarassed. "My dad likes them, and I kind of grew up with their music, being from Canada and all," he said. "What kind of music did you think I listened to?"

"I don't know." Gilbert drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, willing the red light to turn green. "Classical shit?"

To his surprise, Matthew laughed. "That's what Roderich listens to," he said before he could stop himself. He had nothing against the Austrian. It had just slipped out.

Gilbert laughed too. "You have officially gained my respect," he said, grinning toothily at the other boy. A few minutes later, when he was entering Matthew's neighborhood, he said, "Did you say you were from Canada?"

Matthew nodded.

"Does that mean you lived in an igloo?"

**. . .**

Gilbert emerged from his car with an aching arm, but he was snickering. Matthew came out a few seconds later, cheeks red as he apologized over and over again for hitting Gilbert(though then again, he _had_ brought up one of the worst Canadian stereotypes).

"It's no problem, kid." Gilbert bumped his shoulder good-naturedly as they walked up the driveway to the front door. "So, listen, you're probably going to say no after that igloo comment, but uh..." He paused, suddenly losing the bravado that he was sure he'd had just a few minutes ago. "There's this dance thing tomorrow. Wanna come with me?"

Matthew smoothed down that errant curl from the top of his head before answering. "I guess I _should_ start going out more..."

Gilbert realized that Matthew was clueless to the fact that he'd been asked out by the Prussian. "No, Matthew," Gilbert said a tad bit impatiently. "I mean-" He sighed in frustration before grabbed Matthew, turning him around, and planting a kiss on his lips.

When Matthew was released, the Canadian blinked. "Oh," he said quietly. "You mean...that..." By now they'd reached the front door and Matthew was pressing himself against it nervously. He looked distrustfully up at the Prussian first, and upon finding nothing but solemnity(and a noticeable blush), he relented. "Pick me up at six?"

Gilbert grinned, probably looking like an idiot, but not caring. "It's a date."

* * *

**A/N:** This was meant to be put up on Sunday, but this idea tackled my head and I changed the ending. Plus, it came out longer than I thought. And it's _going_ to be longer, meaning probably around 4 parts instead of being a twoshot. I swear, I've got a plot!

I've still not quite eased into writing for Hetalia yet, so please forgive any out of character behavior... -.-

**I have a question**! ...Why does Gilbert call Matthew 'Birdie?' I think I just managed to sound stupid, but I've seen a lot of fanfics where he calls Matthew that, and I've even written it, but I don't know the reason he does it. Can someone help me? D:


	3. Part III

**Part III**

"Matthew?" Alfred was standing outside the door of his brother's room, breath hitched, waiting for a reply. His parents were out working, so he and Matthew were the only ones in the house. It made things eerily quiet. "C'mon, bro, you never lock the door on me..."

There was a click before the door was opened about an inch wide. A violet eye peered at him. "Sorry. The door does that on its own if I close it too fast," he said. Alfed wasn't sure if he believed him; Matthew wasn't making any move to welcome Alfred into his room.

"Should tell Dad to fix it then," Alfred said. "Or me. 'Cause, you know, I'm the hero." He grinned.

Matthew laughed, and the door was opened wider. Matthew stood there, clad in pajamas that looked like they'd been thrown on haphazardly. "You and your hero complex," he teased lightly as Alfred came in.

Alfred gave him a smirk. "Tell me that when I'm saving your ass from a kidnapper in five years," he declared, throwing himself on his brother's bed languidly.

"Actually, I'd say the same thing," Matthew said thoughtfully, "except I'll add, 'Oh, you actually followed through with it! And you're wearing your underwear over your tights, too!' " He giggled when Alfred pouted, climbing in the bed and fitting himself into his twin's side. He smiled fondly, feeling eight years old again.

"Mattie, we never hang out anymore," Alfred said quietly a few minutes later, and Matthew was surprised at the sudden timidness in his normally boisterous brother's voice. "I know I'm not the best brother, but..."

The silence that followed made Matthew's heart clench. He hated to see his brother like this, and he never meant to hurt him in the first place.

"You've been hanging out with that albino," Alfred continued. "And I can tell when someone likes someone, and I'm positive that he likes you-"

Matthew flinched away from his brother suddenly, sitting up. "Al, just because he's watching over me doesn't mean he likes me," he interrupted, something he rarely did. "He's being nice."

"Gilbert's never nice. Mattie, trust me! He's out for no good-"

"Well, maybe I like the attention!" Matthew snapped, something he rarely did also. "I'm always so overshadowed by you, and I'm sick of it! So if Gilbert," his voice cracked, "decides to pay attention to me, then I'll bask in the fucking limelight if I want to." At the end of his sentence he slumped back against the headboard of his bed, drawing his knees up to his chest insecurely.

Alfred sat up as well, looking at his brother with a hurt gaze. Matthew glared at the window instead, choosing to avoid Alfred's stare. "I'm sorry, Mattie," Alfred whispered, crawling up beside his brother. He wrapped his arms tentatively around the younger as if he were fragile.

Matthew lifted a hand to stroke his brother's hair, a gesture that silently said, _I forgive you_. "I'm going to the dance tomorrow night," he declared softly a few moments later.

A beat of silence.

"That's great!" Alfred was suddenly all smiles. "With who?"

Matthew bit his lip thoughtfully before he lied. "No one. I just decided to... I mean, you're coming too, right?" Alfred nodded. "So I'll just find Katyusha and we'll hang out or something." Matthew shrugged nonchalantly.

Alfred bought the lie. "That's great, Matt! But, dude, are you wearing a...you know..." He scratched the back of his neck, blushing.

"A suit?" Matthew offered. "Why not? It's a dance, after all." That was what he'd reasoned, anyway. Besides, he still had a suit that his dad had bought him a few years back.

Alfred beamed. "Cool! 'Cause I was totally planning to wear a suit too, and I wanted us to...uh...match!"

_He didn't want to be the only one wearing a suit_, Matthew translated in his mind. He smiled assuringly at his brother. "Al, I'm sure all the guys are going to be wearing suits. Like I said, it's a dance."

Ducking his head in embarrassment, Alfred mumbled, "S'not that..."

Matthew figured Alfred was trying to impress a girl; he shrugged and decided to drop the subject. "Al," he said, and once he had his brother's attention, he continued, "thanks for talking to me. I feel better. I honestly was starting to think no one cared, eh?"

To his surprise, Alfred wrapped an arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. "Aw, Mattie, people do care about you," he said into the Canadian's hair. "Me, Mom, Dad, and Gilbert, too. Remember that if you ever feel like you need to take those...pills, okay?"

Nodding, Matthew hugged Alfred back. "Thanks, Al. And I'm getting better. School's not that hard to get through with Gilbert's help, and it's not as painful as the first night without the pills."

"Still," Alfred persisted. "And come to me if you're getting the urges again, okay?" He had limited knowledge in withdrawals, but he knew that Matthew shouldn't have gotten withdrawal symptoms from just one use of sleeping pills, even if it was an overdose.

"Okay," Matthew answered.

Alfred took a deep breath. "Matthew, by any chance, have you been taking sleeping pills before the incident...?"

Matthew buried his head into Alfred's shirt. "Of course not," he murmured, holding his breath to see if Alfred believed him.

"All right." Alfred didn't sound entirely convinced; Matthew didn't want to look up and see his expression.

Matthew found his brother's hand and squeezed it, feeling tears prickling at his eyes. "Love you, Al."

"I love you too, Mattie."

**. . .**

The blanket, twisted and thrown, was draped on the floor of the bedroom carelessly. Moonlight filtered in through half-opened blinds to illuminate a shaking figure on the bed. Hands clawed at the bed sheets until he swore they ripped, and he thought about how easy it was just to sneak into the bathroom, open the cabinet, and find that bottle...

Another convulsion ran through his spine, and Matthew whimpered.

_I'll get through this_, he thought to himself hazily. _I'll get through this._

**. . .**

"It was even worse than the first night," Matthew said, shivering despite the mild weather. He silently thanked Gilbert, who pulled him closer to share the warmth of the albino's jacket.

"Well, as long as you're not taking the pills anymore, right?" Gilbert asked hopefully, trying to be as optimistic as possible. At least Matthew trusted him enough to tell him what was going on. Apparently not even his brother knew, and Gilbert was sure he hadn't told his parents either.

Matthew was silent. "Right," he said in a hollow voice.

If Gilbert noticed the dejected tone, he didn't say anything. He kissed the top of Matthew's head, delighting in the way the blond blushed under the affectionate gesture. "So, there's an ice cream stand over there and I really want to start spoiling you," he said casually, getting to his feet. He shot Matthew a mischievous smile, pulling the blond up and towards the colorful stand.

"Okay, okay, I'm coming," Matthew said softly, trying not to smile as Gilbert picked him up from behind and practically carried him to the ice cream stand. His cheeks flushed in embarrassment; his was not used to so much affection and attention at the same time.

"Two scoops of chocolate," Gilbert said, resting his chin on Matthew's shoulder, rocking them back and forth as the ice cream was scooped into a cone.

"Gil, that's only one cone," Matthew observed, confused as to why the Prussian hadn't ordered another.

Gilbert looked satisfied as he received the cone. "Then we'll share, kid." He brought the ice cream to his lips before deciding against it, holding it near Matthew's mouth instead. "You even get the first lick," he said.

"Please call me Matthew..." Matthew murmured. The nickname made him feel younger to Gilbert, though they were, in all actuality, only a few months apart. It didn't help that Matthew always looked young for his age. Tentatively, he leaned forward and took a lick from the top of the ice cream. "And that tastes good," he added.

The red-eyed teenager gawked at him for a few seconds before shaking his head. "Jeez, Mattie," he said, shaking his head. There was a prominent blush spread across his pale cheeks, and for once Gilbert wished he wasn't an albino.

Matthew didn't really understand why Gilbert was embarrassed. "What?" he asked with an air of cluelessness.

"_Gott_, you're cute," Gilbert muttered, some of his German accent leaking into his words.

Feeling more loved than he'd ever felt before, Matthew smiled widely. "Thanks, I guess..." Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the brunette at the ice cream stand holding a camera and taking a picture of them. "Thanks for coming Gil. I knew we were going to see each other again in five hours, but I just really needed to talk to someone." He handed over the cone to Gilbert.

The pair found an empty park bench and sat together, passing the ice cream back and forth, even though Matthew ended up eating most of it. Gilbert had been too busy telling various stories about his 'awesome five meters' and what a total weirdo Ludwig was("He wears a pink _apron _when he gardens!"). Eventually Matthew dropped the cone from laughing so hard, earning them a glare from a nearby old lady, and what was left of the ice cream was thrown away.

"S-Sorry, I was laughing too much," Matthew said in between giggles, wiping his hands on his jeans. "Did you even get to taste the ice cream at all? God, I'm such a pig-" He was interrupted when Gilbert kissed him suddenly. "W-What was that for?" he stammered once Gilbert leaned back.

The other looked satisfied with himself. "I just solved all your problems," he said casually.

"By _kissing me_?"

"Well, you were worried that I didn't get to taste the ice cream," Gilbert explained, "but now I did." He licked his lips, smiling. "Yum."

Matthew turned pink in the cheeks. "You pervert," he murmured, yet he leaned his head on Gilbert's shoulder. "I think I should be heading back," he said a few minutes later, catching sight of a familiar car screeching to a stop in front of the park's entrance. "I promised Al I'd help him get ready, which unfortunately means listening to him ramble while he picks out clothes that look exactly like each other..."

Gilbert laughed, kissing the top of Matthew's head. "Fine, I'll let you go this one time," he relented. "But tonight, you never leave my side, got it?" He flashed the Canadian a winning smile, all the while hoping the other saw the seriousness in his eyes.

"Got it," Matthew said, smiling back shyly. He stood then. "See you later, Gil," he said, raising a hand in a small wave before turning around to talk towards the car.

**. . .**

"He kissed you to annoy me," Alfred accused once Matthew opened the car door and got in. "He knew I was watching, and he did it anyway." He was sure of it. Alfred made a mental note to _talk _to Gilbert later as he began maneuvering the car back onto the road.

Matthew looked at his brother, violet eyes pleading. "I like him, Al. Can you please try not to drive him away?" _And he only kissed the top of my head, so you're overreacting, _he thought, but kept it to himself._  
_

Taking one glance at his brother, Alfred immediately turned away. Damn! It should be illegal for Matthew to use his puppy dog face! Alfred ran a hand through his hair in distress. "Fine, but if he hurts you, or makes you do something you don't want to, you tell me," he said, a little impatient. He didn't understand what Matthew saw in Gilbert. The albino hung out with that Francis, Antonio, and Lovino, which wasn't the best group of friends you could have. Well, Arthur hung out with them too, but Arthur was...okay...

"He's not going to," Matthew insisted. "All right? I think...I think he likes me."

"Gilbert _likes_ you?" his brother scoffed. Matthew winced at the harsh words and had began to reply when Alfred continued, "Matt, that albino loves you. Didn't you see the way he was looking at you?"

Matthew blinked, then blushed and sank back in his seat, quiet.

Alfred realized that the answer was, no, Matthew was completely oblivious. Alfred laughed and shook his head. "Man, and people say I'm dumb."

**. . .**

"Wow, Mattie!" Alfred wolf-whistled as his brother came out donning the suit that they'd found hiding in his closet. "You should look like this more often."

"I'm not going to wear a suit to school," Matthew muttered, toying with the hem of the dress shirt underneath the black blazer. He felt shy under his brother's gaze. He mourned that he might melt into a puddle once others saw him.

Alfred wanted to ruffle his hair, but they'd spent nearly an hour on it(yeah, Alfred had some experience), so he didn't. "Now that we're done," he said, grinning widely, "we'll go downstairs and wait for your boyfriend to pick you up."

Mortified, Matthew tried to stutter, "H-He's not my boyfriend-"

"Whatever you say." Alfred rolled his eyes. He wanted to call Gilbert Matthew's lover, but he felt that his brother was embarrassed enough already. "C'mon!" He took grabbed his brother's hand and half dragged him down to the living room. It was just their luck: their mom was finishing washing the dishes.

"You two are going out?" she asked once she saw them. She stepped into the living room, surprised to see what they were wearing. (And Alfred was surprised that she actually looked sober for once.)

Alfred nodded. "It's a dance, Mom. I told you 'bout it a week ago," he lied. Not that his mother would be able to tell. These days, her memory wasn't all too good.

Their mother's eyes landed on Matthew. "Are you sure your brother's feeling okay to go?" she asked, and Matthew resented it a little that she couldn't talk to him directly.

"Why don't you try asking him, Mom?" Alfred snapped, nudging Matthew forward. Matthew stumbled before he caught himself.

"We're sorry, Matthew," his mother said, voice turned soft as she put a hand on his shoulder. "We never meant to drive you to," she stopped, swallowing, "the point that you wanted to... We're trying to be better, okay, Mattie?" Her eyes were pleading, indigo, like Matthew's own. "Both your dad and I, all right?"

Matthew nodded numbly. He was unsure of what to say, skeptical of his mother, yet at the same time wanting to run to her, hug her, and seek assurance that things _will_ get better. Alfred tugged at his hand just as the doorbell rang. "That's Gilbert," the older twin said. "He's picking us up."

Their mother withdrew her hand from Matthew's shoulder hesitantly. "I'm going to be working late tonight, and your dad's not coming home until morning, so make sure you don't come home too late," she said, stepping back. She gave a trying smile to Matthew. "Have fun."

"We will." Alfred gave another tug at Matthew's hand, finally getting his brother to follow him silently out the front door and to the waiting car beside the curb.

"T-That was mean, Al," Matthew mumbled, absently noticing that he hadn't brought a jacket. He wanted it not for warmth but to hide himself and what he was wearing. People were going to think he looked ridiculous, while Alfred would actually look good because Alfred can make anything look good.

_But tonight, I'm going to have fun_, Matthew told himself, feeling a small spasm rock his arm. He clutched Alfred's hand tighter, almost in fear. _I'm going to forget everything that's happened in the past week and have fun.  
_

He took a deep breath, and then he slid into Gilbert's car.

* * *

**A/N:** Yay, another chapter. :) It turns out that this might actually live up to be five parts, depending on how long the dance scene will turn out to be.

Also, I looked through symptoms of sleeping pill withdrawals and was able to come up with absolutely nothing. Anything in this chapter concerning the withdrawal is based on what I've read, and I apologize if I'm inaccurate. Please feel free to correct me.

And, the doctors _did_ tell Matthew's parents about their suspicion of Matthew having taken the sleeping pills numerous times before, but the parents weren't exactly sober when they were told. :\

Lastly, is anyone else getting these error messages? They're keeping me from updating on time. :\


	4. Part IV

**Part IV**

Gilbert wasn't ogling the wavy-haired blond that shyly took a seat next to him in the backseat of Ludwig's car. Definitely not. He was just casually giving Matthew one/two/ten looks over what the Canadian was wearing. "Do I look that weird?" Matthew asked quietly, and Gilbert realized that he really hadn't been so subtle with his staring.

"No, you look great," he promised, putting an arm around the other. "You kind of remind me of Francis. The less perverted version, of course," he added.

Matthew turned pink in the cheeks as he wrung his hands together in discomfort. "B-but I don't like wearing drag..."

The whole car was filled with guffaws from Gilbert, earning him a reprimand from Ludwig, who was driving, and a few giggles from Feliciano, who'd taken the shotgun seat. "Get a room, you two," Alfred complained, making a face.

"But the only room that's probably going to be available tonight is _your_ room, since my bed is barely big enough for me alone," Matthew pointed out, tone indicating that he was innocent. Gilbert laughed again. His admiration for the Canadian swelled; under that shy exterior, Matthew was funny without trying.

Alfred turned beet red. He shot his brother the best glare he could muster. "Sorry, my room's gonna be taken tonight, too," he said haughtily, trying to make up for his blush by pouring every ounce of dignity he had into those words.

"He and Artie can have his room," Gilbert announced. "We'll fit in your bed, Birdie." That was a nickname that he decided suited Matthew and started using. "You're a clingy sleeper, right?" He grinned slyly.

It was just then that it dawned on Matthew what they were implying. Mortified, Matthew attempted to cover his face and shrink between Gilbert and Alfred. "S-so what if I'm clingy... How did you know, anyway?" He pouted up at the Prussian.

"I didn't." The grin grew wider.

"You mentioned an Artie," Matthew muttered, trying to redirect the conversation. "Were you talking about Arthur?"

Gilbert nodded. "Of course, he and Alfred have become _very_ good friends over the past few days, you know."

(It was Alfred's turn to look away to hide his flushed cheeks.)

From up front, Feliciano clapped in delight. "It's so nice to see everyone getting along so well," he cheered. "Don't you think so too, Ludwig?" He turned to the other boy expectantly.

Ludwig suppressed a sigh of resignation, eyes flashing to the mirror and seeing Gilbert hugging an embarrassed Matthew. "Of course, Feli."

**. . .**

It was a pleasant surprise to Francis and Antonio that their friend had gone for someone as quiet and reserved as Matthew. "But I suppose _Matthieu_ can be good for Gilbert," Francis said thoughtfully. "And he looks quite cute, actually..."

"As long as they love each other," Antonio said. He glanced sideways, smiling at Lovino adoringly.

"S-stop looking at me like that, tomato bastard!" Lovino immediately shouted, blushing madly as he threw a plastic cup from a table at the Spaniard. "Goddamn stalker," he seethed.

"I'm going to go comfort my Lovi," Antonio sighed, still smiling. "Have fun, Francis." He then started off for the hotheaded Italian.

Francis watched as Gilbert momentarily left Matthew's side to pick up their pictures(everyone had their pictures taken when they first entered), and the Frenchman seized the opportunity. He sidled next to the unsuspecting Matthew and gave him his most charming smile. "I see you are with Gilbert, _mon chou_."

Matthew shifted uncomfortably, trying to shake Francis's arm off of him without being too obvious. "I'm not a cabbage," he said finally, settling for a slight pout. He'd been unsuccessful in getting away from Francis's touch. At least his hands weren't wandering...

The smile on the Frenchman's face grew. "Oh? You speak French?" he asked, mildly surprised. It wasn't every day that he met someone who also spoke the language of love!

Matthew nodded. All the while, he scanned the crowd for Gilbert. _How long does it take to get a drink? And he said I was never to leave his side tonight..._

"That's fantastic!" Francis purred. "I would kiss you right now. But alas, you are with Gilbert, and no matter how he's hurt me in the past, I do not like to steal lovers." He paused, mainly for dramatic effect. Then he winked. "They come willingly, of course."

"Hey Frenchie!" Matthew had never been so relieved to hear Gilbert's voice. "You better not be trying to pick up my boyfriend!" That last part set Matthew's heart aflutter. He really needed to get used to this kind of thing, he told himself. "Hey, kid." Gilbert reappeared by his side and thankfully pulled him away from Francis. "Did he do anything to molest you?"

Matthew blushed. "No."

"Good. Did he still your innocence?"

"No, I'm sure I'm still a virgin..."

"Well, that's not what I was asking, but...kesese..." Gilbert trailed off into a bunch of mischievous snickers.

Matthew seemed to be getting redder by the second. "F-Francis mentioned something about you hurting him," he murmured. "What does he mean?" Half of the intentions behind the question was to get the attention away from his embarrassing slip up.

Gilbert suddenly seemed to grow solemn. "That's nothing," he said crossly.

At the same time, Francis perked up, "Oh, you didn't tell him?"

_He looks so angry,_ Matthew thought. He felt troubled at the annoyance written across Gilbert's face. What confused him even more was that Francis was just standing there, smirking. What had happened between the two friends?

"It was not that big of a deal, I relent," Francis said. By this point his smile was so wide that he was starting to resemble the Cheshire cat. "It was a simple event of heartbreak. I do feel that I should warn you beforehand, Matthew..."

"Well, you don't have to!" Gilbert interrupted harshly. He placed his hands on Matthew's ears as if to stop him from hearing. "I plan on-"

"You were in a relationship with him?" Matthew queried. He shook himself free from Gilbert's grip and turned to face the albino with a puzzled expression. "Why didn't you tell me?" He'd told _him_ everything, after all. Matthew trusted him, too. Did Gilbert trust _him?_

"Well, I don't have to tell you anything that I don't want to," Gilbert snapped. His red eyes were flaring.

Matthew went quiet; Gilbert had never raised his voice at him before. He should have kept his stupid mouth shut! Why did he have to ask about what had happened? Now Gilbert was mad.

"I mean, you're not my wife or anything," Gilbert continued, eyes narrowed and glaring icily. "You're just a suicidal that I met. The world would be a better place without you, anyway."

The impact of the Prussian's words hit Matthew hard. He took a small step back, head bowed, mostly to hide his wet eyes. "Gil," he began, and stopped, unsure of how else to continue. What was he supposed to say?

_Just get out of there_, a voice hissed in his head. And he obeyed, turning and running, as a result almost bumping into Francis. "I-I'm sorry," he choked out. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry." He repeated the three words feverently under his breath in between hiccups.

He ran out of the school building.

Blinded by tears, he didn't see the car headlights, driving straight towards him just as he was in the middle of the road until it was too late.

Matthew felt a sharp pain in his side before the world turned black.

**. . .**

Francis was still in a bit of a daze. How had the setting changed so quickly? Over three hours ago, they were at the dance, and he'd been having the time of his life, personally. Then he'd decided to mess with Matthew - just a little. Now they were in the hospital. God, he'd never meant for things to snowball this badly.

Arthur was sitting in the waiting chair in front of him. Alfred occupied the seat next to the Brit, crying and trying to stifle himself at the same time. His face was buried into Arthur's shoulder, his form shaking visibly as he tried to regain composure.

"Let it out," Arthur murmured soothingly as he held Alfred's hand. "It's going to be all right." (He wasn't so sure, but he wasn't about to tell Alfred that.)

A few minutes later, a doctor arrived and showed them to Matthew's room. Francis recoiled when he saw Matthew's pale, unmoving form on the hospital bed.

Alfred cried harder.

"The impact of the car itself didn't do most of the injuries," the doctor said. He flipped through some papers before he turned to the three teenagers. "He landed pretty hard. Broke two ribs, and we're still trying to figure out whether he's broken his left leg or not. Matthew is frail, I noticed, and it seems that he still hasn't full recovered from his last trip here."

"But it's been almost a week," Alfred whispered. "And he told me he was feeling better."

"I'm going to be honest with you," the doctor said decisively. "Things aren't looking bright for Matthew. He's very weak and-" He stopped there, seeing Alfred bury his face into his hands.

"What's his chance of surviving?" It was Francis who asked.

"Fifteen percent," the doctor answered.

Arthur gripped Alfred tightly. "He'll make it through," he whispered into his ear. "Matthew's strong, he'll make it." _Oh god, I pray he makes it._

**. . .**

When Gilbert entered the hospital room, he wasn't sure what he'd been expecting to see. Once, he imagined Matthew on the hospital bed, but shook it off. His Mattie couldn't be hurt, right?

He found out that the circumstances were otherwise upon entering the room. He'd braced himself for the worst, but the sight still took him aback. Matthew looked so pale and _dead_ that Gilbert had to look at the beeping monitor screen to make sure he was alive. And he was, thankfully, but his heartbeats were slow.

Gilbert swallowed. He knew it had been stupid to say those things at the dance, and even more idiotic to let Matthew run off like that, but what had been the chances that Matthew would end up in the hospital again? _It's all my fault_, he said to himself. He felt a strange finality with it. _It's all my fault._

"Where were you?" Arthur hissed, standing and not hesitating to confront the Prussian. "You were supposed to be watching over Matthew, and look what's happened!" Alfred was curled up in a chair, staring at the floor silently with dry tear tracks on his cheeks, and Francis had left a little while earlier. And Matthew, Matthew was still in the hospital bed; he wasn't getting up; it wasn't a joke. It was the frightening reality.

Gilbert brushed him aside, using two quick strides to reach the side of the bed. "Matthew? Mattie?" His voice broke on the pet name. He reached out to touch the blond locks that seemed to have lost their shine. "Are you awake?"

Violet eyes fluttered opened. Gilbert could just barely see them through the bandages covering the Canadian's face. " 'm here," was the hoarse reply.

In the next second, Gilbert was cradling his cheek, oh so gingerly. "Mattie," he murmured brokenly, "Mattie, Mattie, I am so sorry..." Hot tears were slowly streaming down his cheeks, but he made no move to wipe them away, keeping his hands touching his Matthew the whole time.

A small smile quirked on Matthew's face, as if it was all he could manage. "S'okay, Gil," he whispered. His eyebrows twitched, the talking clearly taking a lot of effort. "Awes'me people like you 'rn't meant to cry... You're...forgiven..." Then his forehead relaxed and his eyelids drooped shut.

The monitor stopped beeping.

Alfred's head snapped up immediately. "Mattie?"

"I love you," Gilbert uttered as the tears came faster. "I love you, I love you."

(All the while, he tried to convince himself that he hadn't been too late.)

**. . .**

The funeral was small. The only family members who attended were Alfred and their parents; the rest were Matthew's classmates. Gilbert stayed off to the side for the most part. He didn't want a front row seat of his boyfriend's burial.

In the end, when the priest asked if there were any last words, Alfred stepped forward. Arthur was beside him, arm around his shoulders as if to hold him up. "Mattie, this makes me wish I spoiled you more," Alfred murmured, cracking a sad smile. "And I... My god, I don't think I've told you that I love you at least three times. But I do, Matthew. I do, and I'm not going to start going on about how I wish you never died, not that I don't," his voice cracked here. Arthur squeezed his hand encouragingly, "but I know and accept that you've moved on. Mattie, wherever you are up there, I hope you're happier." He dropped a red tulip down. It contrasted brightly against the black coffin. "You always liked tulips, didn't you?"

That was when he couldn't take it anymore. Alfred gripped Arthur's arm and cried, this time openly.

A tall, spiky-haired boy stepped forward. "Every year, I gave you flowers and asked you out," he said huskily, dropping his own tulip down. "You used to tell me that you were so lonely, but you never said yes to me. Said that you had a crush on someone else.

"Well, I hope that you and that someone else eventually got together." The boy raised his head slightly and made brief eye contact with Gilbert, as if he knew. "I hope he treated you well, because you deserve it. You will be missed, Matthew." He stepped back.

Gilbert didn't speak up when the priest asked if they were ready. The teen merely watched with mournful red eyes as men began to shovel dirt into the grave. Halfway through, Gilbert turned and began walking back towards his brother's car, which was waiting at the entrance of the cemetery. Feliciano had come with them, only to burst into tears when they arrived, so Ludwig had stayed with the Italian.

"How was it, _bruder_?" Ludwig asked as Gilbert got into the back seat.

"Uneventful," Gilbert muttered, short and simple. _It's all my fault._

"I am filled with grief as well, but you should take comfort in the fact that even though Matthew is gone, he is still living in our hearts." Ludwig started the car and began to back out of the parking lot. "I am sure that he would want for you to move on, as well."

"He forgave me," Gilbert said, sagging against the window. "He forgave me, even after what I did to him."

"He loved you, Gilbert," Ludwig said softly. "Of course he would have forgiven you."

Silence washed over the car as they traveled home. In the front, Feliciano was still whimpering, but Ludwig stroked his hand comfortingly.

Gilbert watched the moving sky through the glass of his brother's car. The ache in his heart had eased somewhat, but the emotions were still fresh: guilt, grief. At the same time, he felt that Ludwig was right. "If you can hear me," he murmured, staring at the clouds intently. He glanced down at the photograph that had been taken at the dance, and took in the sight of Matthew greedily. "If you can hear me, I love you." He pressed his lips to the picture. "I always will."

* * *

**A/N:** Ah! It's a sappy finish! God, I cried so badly when I wrote this that I had to stop halfway. It was always how I'd intended for the story to end. I apologize if it took so long, the funeral scene was hard for me to write.

Even though this chapter is officially the last, there's still an epilogue coming up. You can stop reading here, if you want. The epilogue will probably be done in a week or so.

Thanks to everyone who read this story and who reviewed, it means a lot to me. You guys are the best. :)


	5. Epilogue

**Important!** Before anyone asks, _yes_ this _is_ the right chapter. If you get confused, don't worry, keep reading, everything will be clear at the end. :)

* * *

**Epilogue**

Nineteen-year old Nathan Clark rolled his eyes at his childish boyfriend, who was currently trying to impress him by juggling three oranges from the produce section. "Put those down," he said wearily. "Aren't you older than me?"

"Is it working?" Ghislain(whom Nathan had started calling Lain for short) Kaiser asked excitedly. "Is it? Are you impressed?"

"Very." Nathan pushed a strand of his wavy blond hair behind his ear and squinted at a tray of apples behind his glasses. "Lain, help me pick out the apples."

Lain bit his lip in concentration. The oranges still kept their cycle in the air. "I don't get it," he said. "They're just apples. Pick the reddest one." He moved his hand too fast and one of the oranges fell. Lain dropped to his knees and successfully caught it; however, the two other oranges hit his head before rolling forward and neatly falling into his arms.

Nathan didn't look up from the apples. "If security comes, I don't know you," he said flippantly, putting three apples into a provided plastic bag and putting it in the cart. The blond proceeded to push the cart along, heading for the vegetables.

From the floor, Lain took a few seconds to admire the Canadian's behind as Nathan walked away. Then he seemed to realize that _Nathan was walking away_ and _oh shit the manager's coming!_ and he quickly scrambled to hit feet and stumbled after Nathan. "We're getting oranges," he announced as he grabbed a plastic bag and dropping the three oranges into it.

"Mhm," Nathan replied, sounding occupied. "Is this all we need?" he asked, finishing putting a bag of spinach into the cart.

"I think so," Lain answered, scratching his silver hair. His tone indicated that he didn't really know. "Man, I'm starting to think that we should have really made a shopping list."

The couple made their way to the register. Since they had less than fifteen items, they were able to check out at one of the express counters. "Hey, Lain," Nathan said as the cashier began ringing their items up.

Lain looked from the package of gum he was inspecting.

In Nathan's hand was a package of yellow marshmallow Peeps.

Lain gasped.

His boyfriend smiled. "Want some?" he inquired innocently.

"Nate!" Lain exclaimed, grabbing the bright package out of Nathan's grasp. "No! Bad Nate. You know these monstrosities are banned from being eaten." He pouted, tossing the Peeps back on the shelf. "You're such an asshole sometimes." He thought of his pet bird back at their apartment and assured himself, _Don't worry, Gillbird, we won't be eating anything that looks like you._

"Love you too." Nathan snorted. He glanced at the woman at the cashier and smiled apologetically. "I'm sorry, he gets so excited when we go grocery shopping."

"There are just so many things to pick from!" Lain piped up sarcastically. "Nate, can I buy some gum?"

"Of course, dear."

"Thank you, honey."

"No problem, sweetie."

They finished checking out with minimal stares from others. "Honestly," Nathan began with a small sigh when they were outside. "Can't you act your age at least five days a week?" He gave Lain an accusatory look as they reached their car.

Lain grinned wolfishly. "But you wouldn't love me as much," he said, stealing a kiss on the blond's cheek on his way to the driver's side. "Admit it." He fished around in his pockets for the car keys before getting in. "And besides, it just goes to show that they've never seen _you_ when you're drunk."

"Lain!" Nathan complained. He buckled his seatbelt and sunk down in his seat, pouting behind the bag of groceries. "That was a one-time thing."

"You never know." Lain wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Leaning over, he turned the Canadian's face and kissed him chastely. "I might be planning to spike your drink tonight."

Nathan flushed a pretty pink.

Lain chuckled victoriously, settling back into his seat. As he slid the key into the ignition, he babbled mindlessly about his plan to 'get Nathan drunk.' It was in the middle of his fourth time turning the key that he realized the car wasn't turning on.

His lover noticed as well. Nathan furrowed his eyebrows cutely like he did whenever he was worried. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. The car just needs a little," he punched the dashboard suddenly, making Nathan squeak, "encouragement." He twisted the key again. The car sputtered, then died.

"Nothing wrong, eh?" Nathan said.

"Correction: It's not working," Lain announced.

"Thank you for that, Captain Obvious."

"No problem, Lieutenant Sarcasm."

"Haha. You're funny."

"I do try."

Nathan looked out the window at the store. "Do you think we can call someone?" he wondered out loud.

Lain rested his head on the steering wheel. "Who can we call?" he said. "My brother's in California, and yours is at work."

There was silence for a few minutes. Nathan relaxed in his seat after a while. "Well, this reminds me of when we met," he mused. He turned his head to look at Lain. "Doesn't it? Broken car and everything."

"Except that was your car, and this is mine," Lain said, nodding in agreement. Another bout of silence washed over them. Lain frowned. "...Now I feel old."

Nathan stared up at the gray ceiling of the car. "Wow, how long ago was that?" he said. "Five years? Six?"

Lain shook his head. "No, it was four. You were sixteen, and I was seventeen. I took you to that dance, remember?" he asked. "And then I dragged you to the middle of the room and forced you to dance with me."

"Oh, I remember. You weren't a very good dancer back then," Nathan said observantly.

"Shut up, you bloody git," he said, doing a horrible rendition of a British accent. He mock-scowled.

"I'm Canadian," Nathan quipped with a small punch to Lain's side. "You hoser," he decided to add for effect, trying hard to bite back his grin.

Lain had enough courtesy to move the groceries to the backseat before practically leaping over to Nathan's side of the car. Nathan moved at the last minute, and instead of hugging the blond's torso, Lain ended up hugging his lap instead.

"Well, this is a compromising position," Nathan said pointedly, and Lain hit his knee and muttered, "Shut up."

Then, the albino said, "I kind of like it here, actually."

Which earned him a small slap on the head and a reprimand of, "Stop being a pervert. Get up."

"I like it here," Lain complained. His fingers brushed deliberately over Nathan's knees; he knew the Canadian was terribly ticklish at that spot.

Soon, the two was a giggling mess, Nathan's hand fisting the back of Lain's shirt as he tried to pull his boyfriend off, and Lain refusing and staying put. However, they were interrupted when there was a small tap at the window. Nathan gasped, moving his hand to Lain's hair instead and yanking him up.

"Ow," Lain groaned. He settled back into his own seat, rubbing his head tenderly. "Fuck, Nate, save that kind of thing for when we're in bed."

"Lain!" Nathan hissed. "There's someone outside!"

"I got it, I got it." Lain waved him off. Opening the car door and stepping out, he tried not to look too cross at being interrupted. "Can we help you?" he asked in his most polite voice.

The man who stood in front of him looked to be about in his late thirties. His hair was short, spiky, and a light shade of blond. His eyes were an aged green, giving him the appearance of someone who looked tired, yet he was smiling. He had a bit of facial hair going on, particularly his eyebrows...

"I apologize for interrupting," he said smoothly. Lain wondered if he was British; he sounded like it. "But when I saw you two, I was reminded of some friends that I had when I was in high school."

_That's not creepy at all_, Lain thought.

"Lain? Who is it?" Nathan gave up trying to see from inside the car and got out. "Oh, were we disturbing you?" he gushed once he saw the older man. "We're so sorry-"

"No, you two were just being teenagers." The man smiled.

"I'm _twenty_," Lain muttered childishly under his breath.

"Are you having trouble?" The man's rich British accent had a tint of worry. "I have some extra gas back at my apartment. You two can come with me, if you'd like."

Nathan looked to Lain, frowning and trying to shake his head subtly. If there was one thing he hated, it was imposing on people. "I think we're fine," he said quietly. "But thank you for the offer."

"It's no problem, if that's what you're worried about." The man gave a chuckle. "My name's Arthur, by the way. There's no reason to distrust me now, right?"

"I-I don't distrust you," Nathan began, and was cut off by Lain.

"Don't worry, Nate, I'll protect you, so go get the groceries already," his boyfriend assured with a small grin. He wrapped an arm around the smaller man's shoulder. "Lead the way, Arthur."

Arthur shook his head to himself with an amused smile. He hid it by turning towards the direction of his car. "Right this way."

**. . .**

"Alfred?" Arthur called into the seemingly empty apartment. "Come in, you two." He gestured for the hesitant couple standing in the doorway before turning and walking deeper into the living room. "Alfred?" he called again.

"I'm here, Arthur." Alfred appeared from the connecting kitchen. He pushed his sliding glasses back up his nose. "Do I hear voices? Did you invite someone over?" His blue eyes, which once were lively and weren't as bright anymore, glazed over the couple on the couch and widened, startled. "Is that-"

Arthur smiled, though it was small and sad. "Come and say hi, all right?" he coaxed gently. Taking Alfred's hand, he brought him to the front of the other room. "This is Nathan and Lain." He nudged him forward slightly. "I need to retrieve something, so make nice."

There was a beat of silence.

"Mattie?" the American whispered. His voice was barely audible.

Yet Nathan looked up and glanced at Alfred. "Hm?" he inquired. Alfred swore he saw familiarity flash through those violet eyes. Unfortunately, Nathan seemed not to notice. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

Alfred's gaze moved over to the man next to Nathan. He was pale, with gleaming red eyes, and platinum hair, an arm slung across Nathan's shoulders languidly. _What is this?_ Alfred thought hazily, but found himself moving towards Nathan.

Again, something flickered across the Canadian's eyes and he rose, almost instinctively. "You," he began breathily, but then Alfred encased him in a tight hug.

Lain looked up, confusion etched across his face. "Nate?" he asked.

"I don't know why," Nathan said softly, pulling back a little to look at Alfred, "but when I saw you, I felt this pain... I don't understand..."

Alfred stroked his hair comfortingly, seemingly oblivious to his surroundings. He buried his face into the crook of Nathan's neck and murmured, "Matthew, I love you, my brother, I love you, I love you."

"I have the gas," Arthur spoke up, having returned.

"Let's go, then," Lain said quickly, unsure of how to react to his boyfriend hugging someone else and being called a different name. He put a hand on Nathan's shoulder. "Birdie?"

Nathan sniffed once and stepped back from Alfred's arms. He ducked his head slightly. "Right. Sorry, Lain." He looked to Arthur. "Are we ready to go, Mr. Kirkland?"

"Call me Arthur," Arthur said with a laugh. "Please, I don't need to sound any older than I already am." He glanced at Alfred before telling Lain and Nathan, "Will you two wait in the car? I seem to have misplaced my keys."

"Sure thing," Lain said, and left the apartment with Nathan to go to the car.

"Where did you find them?" Alfred asked the moment he and the Briton were alone.

"At the grocery store. I figured it would cheer you up a little." He smiled, bittersweet. "And I was hoping it would convince you to finally get rid of these." Crossing the room, he retrieved two pages from a newspaper that had been printed twenty years ago.

Alfred took the pages and ran a finger over the black and white pictures gently. _Teen Suicide Leaves Family Distressed_, read one headline. _Teen Murder Sets City on Edge_, read the other. On each respective page, there were two pictures: One of Matthew Williams, and the other of Gilbert Beilschmidt.

"I guess it's about time, anyway," Alfred said, mostly to himself. He locked eyes with Arthur. "Thank you, Iggy... It did help."

Arthur smiled, relieved, enveloping the taller man for a hug. "You just needed a little convincing," he murmured against the fabric of the blond's shirt, "of the fact that miracles do happen."

**. . .**

"Are you okay?" Ghislain asked his boyfriend when they got home to their own apartment. Arthur had dropped them back off at the grocery store, and with the container of gas Arthur had given them, they were able to drive back home. Since their meeting with Alfred, though, Nathan had been distant.

The blond nodded as he kicked off his shoes. "Of course I'm okay," he said. He smiled. "Why wouldn't I be?"

Lain collapsed on the couch and beckoned the other over. Nathan walked towards him and, with some minimal cajoling, laid down as well. With his relatively small size, he was able to curl up on Lain's chest nicely.

"It was just so weird," Nathan said after a while. Tracing random patterns on Lain's chest with his finger, he continued, "I mean, I felt like I met him already, even though I know I _haven't_."

Lain said nothing, only kissing the top of Nathan's head.

"It's like how I'm terrified of sleeping alone," Nathan explained. "And do you remember how you used to have those nightmares about me dying? It was _that_ kind of pain that I felt. As if he was very close to me in a past life, or something." Then he shook his head. "Forget about it, you probably think I'm insane."

"I don't," Lain reassured. "Because you're not the only one who feels like that at times."

"Ghislain?" Nathan whispered. "Do you think..."

Lain somehow knew how he was going to finish that question. He hushed the Canadian, pulling him close, as if afraid to lose him. "Let's not think about that, and focus instead on what we have now, okay?"

Nathan found his hand and squeezed it. "Okay, Gil." He swallowed and tried to beat back the sudden wave of sadness that was threatening to wash over him. The name flowed easily, naturally from his lips. As if he'd been born to speak it. "I love you."

If Lain noticed the slip, he didn't say anything and basked in the comfortable atmosphere. "Love you too, Mattie," he murmured.

And if someone were watching the scene, they'd notice that for a brief moment, the forms of Ghislain and Nathan flickered into Gilbert and Matthew.

* * *

**A/N:** For those who are confused: Basically, this takes place multiple years after Matthew's death. Somewhere along that line, Gilbert passed away too(thus the newspaper article). They were reincarnated into Nathan and Ghislain. They looked so much like Gilbert and Matthew used to that when Arthur saw them, he couldn't resist.

Thank you to those who reviewed, favorited, and alerted! It encouraged me to keep going with this story~

Also, just a small lesson on meanings of names: Ghislain is a German name, and it means oath. I thought it would suit Gilbert, since he said "I'll always love you," and it was, in a way, an oath that he made to Matthew. As for his last name, I just searched for some surnames and found Kaiser to be somewhat fitting.

Nathan is a popular Canadian name. It means God-given, and I picked it because it pertains to how much Gilbert loved him. Again, his last name was picked randomly.

That's about it. With this story completed, I'll hopefully be able to focus more on Parenthood(goodness knows how long I've been neglecting that), and maybe even some oneshots. We'll see~

'til next time! :)


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